Page 90 of Forget Me

I pulled on a jacket and grabbed my purse and bus pass. I considered taking a car, but I needed the process of walking to the stop, flashing my pass. I needed the hard plastic seat, the bright interior lights, the suspicious stares of the other riders to keep me from dissolving into a puddle of emotions.

I brisk-walked to my stop, my shoulders hunched against the cold. Emotions. They were the last things I needed. Focus. Drive. Cold-hearted purpose would get me what I wanted more than anything.

Which was the assistant director job.

And to get that, I needed my charger and an empty social schedule.

By the time I trudged up the hill to Cooper’s mansion, I’d managed to box up my pesky emotions and shove them into a deep, dark corner of my heart. The chilly air froze the tears inside their ducts where they belonged.

I marched down the brightly lit drive and across the pavers to the guesthouse. I knocked on his door. It was well after seven, so he ought to be home. I spared not a thought for his proposal that I be waiting for him in his fancy jetted tub.

Okay, I spared one longing thought as the cold prickled on my cheeks.

When Mateo opened the door, a mouthwatering scent of meat and potatoes and spices wafted out. It curled into my nostrils and beckoned me inside.

Breathing through my mouth to resist the delicious aroma, I said to his chest, “Hi. Can I come in? I left my charger here this weekend.”

Only then did I run my gaze from the center of his T-shirt up to his face, which welcomed me with a grin.

“Please,” he said. “And stay for dinner. I made enough for two.”

“No, thanks.” I swallowed the saliva that had pooled when he’d said “dinner.” I’d been too caught up in my spreadsheets after work to remember to eat. “Just the charger.”

When he stepped aside, I slipped past him, trying not to breathe in his scent, to brush up against his warm, hard chest.

I looked for my charger but didn’t see it plugged into the outlet where I remembered leaving it.

“I, ah, had to pick it up. Roger found it.” He went to the built-in bookcase and plucked the coiled-up cord off a high shelf. He held it out to me, and sure enough, there were tiny kitten toothprints on the plastic cord.

I ran my fingers over the indentations. “Looks like he didn’t manage to chew through it.”

“No.” He chuckled as he ran his hand through his hair, and I tried not to gape at his triceps. “I was glad not to come home to a fried kitty. He must have found something else to play with. He’s figured out how to open drawers, you know.”

“What has he gotten into?” I shoved the charger into my bag.

“Sock drawer. I fold them into balls, and, well, my bedroom looked like the outfield after batting practice.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Roger,” I called. “Come here, you bad kitty.”

His bell jingled, and he raced from the hall with the bedrooms. Standing on his hind legs, he sank his front claws into my jeans. I tucked my bag under my arm, scooped him up, and cradled him in my arms. I rubbed a finger against his cheek, and he purred. But when I remembered I needed to tell him good-bye, the warmth in my chest cooled.

“Your allergies,” Mateo said. “Did you take your medicine?”

“No.” Reluctantly, I set Roger on the floor. “I’m not staying long.”

His plush lips turned down. “You’re not?”

“No. This—this—” I squeezed my bag against my side. I’d checked off one item on my list; now it was time for another. “This isn’t going to work out. You and me.”

His chest lifted and then caved in, rounding his shoulders. “I know.”

“You do?” Maybe this wasn’t going to be as hard as I’d thought. Maybe he thought we were a mismatch, too. I ignored the sharp pang behind my breastbone.

“I always knew.” But he didn’t meet my gaze as he bent to pick up Roger and cuddled him against his chest.

His back to me, he curled his shoulders around the kitten and bent his head. And suddenly, he was a little boy, abandoned by his mother. A young man, standing alone beside his father’s hospital bed. And now I was the one abandoning him.

“Mateo, I—” I touched his back, and when he flinched, I snatched my hand away.

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